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HE WORD SPREAD LIKE wildfire through the tribes of the northern and southern plains. A new spiritual leader had emerged. Indians were about to regain ownership of America. The earth would open up and swallow white soldiers and settlers, the buffalo would return, and all the Indians killed in battle would come back to life. As a bonus, the horse—the one positive contribution of the white man—would remain. For once, the European invaders’ superior numbers and high-tech weapons wouldn’t matter. Their God had declared himself on the side of the Indians. Who could blame him? He had sent his son to save the white men, and they had nailed him to a cross. Smart money said God was ready to start over and put the Indians in charge, if only they followed a simple set of instructions. The plan sounded completely reasonable to the plains Indians, the Cheyenne, the Arapaho, and especially the Lakota. Native American legends were filled with messianic leaders who showed up at the last possible moment to save the tribes from a seemingly unconquerable enemy. That moment had been reached. White invaders had driven the Plains Indians to the brink of starvation by killing off the buffalo, and since the Civil War ended, the U.S. Army was turning its full attention to resettling the big game hunter tribes on reservations. If a hero didn’t show up soon, the traditional way of life would be lost forever.
The last charismatic Native American messiah had been the Lakota warrior, Crazy Horse. He had visions of a world without white people too, but his methods involved a fair amount of blood-letting. Crazy Horse had a large Plains Indian following and quite a few military successes, including a significant battle at Little Big Horn. But he and his warriors were eventually hunted to the ragged edge of starvation by the U.S. Army, and in 1877 he surrendered. Four months later, Crazy Horse was bayoneted by a military guard. His messianic days had run their course. It took eleven years for the new spiritual leader to emerge. This messiah wasn’t a firebrand warrior with magic face paint like Crazy Horse. Wovoka (Chopper) was a Piute Shaman who had grown up with white Christians near Carson City, Nevada. He read the Bible, spoke fluent English, and even had a Christian name. Local settlers called him Jack Wilson. Wovoka had no grudge against white people. He simply wanted them to go away. Late in 1888, he had the first in a pair of visions that showed him how it could be done. That revelation came with a fever. His temperature climbed so high his soul broke loose from his body and traveled to the spirit home of all the Native American ancestors who had been killed in the struggle with the white man. The animals they used to hunt were there as well, waiting for the opportunity to live again. Wovoka could bring them all back to life, and they would show him how in another vision.
